


Cold Winds

by Birdbitch



Category: Arthurian Mythology
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 05:54:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3163712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birdbitch/pseuds/Birdbitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Together, they contemplate the weather.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Winds

For Galahad, the temptations are different.

 

He leans towards Percival for warmth; during this part of their quest, winter has fallen and sitting by the fire alone doesn’t do enough for him. Percival notices without him having to say anything or do anything and opens his cloak enough to let Galahad under as well. Technically, Percival’s the one on watch and Galahad should be sleeping, but he had it first and he figured he might as well stay up with Percival until Bors came from his tent to take the last few hours. “We can share blankets,” Percival says, and Galahad nods his head, feeling not entirely capable of talking.

There are days he doesn’t talk at all.

"I used to love winter when I was little. It was always so beautiful, I thought. But I guess I got to stay inside most of it, huh?" Percival bumps their shoulders together. "Me, mum, and my sister all huddled together. Not too different from this, really." He looked back at the fire.

Percival’s body heat ran warmer than anyone else’s, so Galahad was a little surprised to think of him as staying inside all winter. Then, he has trouble thinking of Percival spending much time inside at all given the way he fills up rooms, so he pushes it aside. “The monks loved the snow,” he says, and Percival nods his head. “They liked the way it reminded them of Christmas.” It isn’t snowing now, though; it’s too cold for the weather to do much of anything. Besides, it’s past Christmas at this point, and they missed spending it with everyone else back in Camelot.

"You’re shivering. Come closer." Percival puts a heavy arm around his shoulders and tugs him close. “My watch is almost over, yeah? We can go to bed soon.”

“I’ll freeze to death.”

“No you won’t.” Percival smiles at him and for a second, there’s a sinking feeling in Galahad’s stomach like there is something very wrong with him, like there’s a guilt present in him for something he hasn’t done (yet). “You’re supposed to find the Grail. You won’t die before then.”

“You might,” he says, voice soft, and Percival shakes his head and smiles wider.

“Will not. I’ll be with you when you find it.”

From within the tent, Bors stirs and Galahad almost feels relieved when he does, though he isn’t entirely sure why or of what. He and Percival shift apart then not because they necessarily have to, but out of habit of always moving away when other knights are around. Bors comes out rubbing his face and shivering, fur wrapped around his shoulders to help keep the cold from sinking into his skin. “I’m up, I’m up,” he says, and he takes his place opposite the fire, sword laying down at his feet as he settles in. “You’ve both been taking the watch?”

“I got a little sleep during Galahad’s,” Percival says. He yawns now, prompting Bors to yawn in response. “But you’re up?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Then we’ll be going to sleep.”

Bors grumbles something not unkind under his breath and gives one of his small smiles before nodding his head and curling his body in on itself to try to preserve his body heat. Galahad follows Percival into the tent, unrolling his own blanket and furs and laying it down on the ground so they can use both of Percival’s together. Inside, together like this, Galahad can hear both of their hearts beating, and he feels that same strange nervous energy pulsing in his gut and he wonders for a second if Percival feels it too or if he’s as oblivious to it as he is to everything else.

Even under the blankets, it feels like it takes forever to heat up. “We’re supposed to be sleeping,” Percival says suddenly, voice quiet and conspiratory, “but I want to tell you something.”

“Make it quick,” Galahad replies, trying to keep his voice as low. It feels like his heart is in his chest.

“I like the winter, because it reminds me of when you first came to Camelot,” he says. He doesn’t say anything else, and even in the dark Galahad can tell that he’s shut his eyes. Sometimes he does this—he’ll be wide awake one moment and dead asleep the next, making it hard to carry any kind of late conversation with him. Galahad keeps his mouth shut and and tries to stop shivering long enough that he too can fall asleep.


End file.
